Screaming the Firstborn Blues

Ellie – I think we’d all agree that you’ve had a tough couple of weeks. Two weeks ago, you were an only child. Now you have a baby brother, James, who’s getting a lot of attention – just for being born. Who wouldn’t scream? (Which…

One Year Old

Ellie — You’re almost a year old now, and your grandfather and I will be coming to help you celebrate. If you’re anything like your mother at the same age, you’ll smear icing all over your face and fall asleep with your head in the…

Learning to Crawl

Ellie — Opa and I took a wonderful trip to Seattle to see you and your parents two weeks ago. We came back with lots of warm memories, a zillion photos of you and us, and, as a bonus, the cold you had. What did we…

The Other Babies

Ellie — I first knew about you on Christmas Day, 2014. Your mother was nauseated most days and thought she should tell Opa, Uncle Nick, and me why. We were thrilled, bursting with happiness. Truth is, we were bursting, period, since we couldn’t tell anybody…

Different Places in Our Lives

Dear Ellie — You’re rolling over now. Opa and I were trying to talk to you on FaceTime, but you couldn’t be bothered for long. You’d get a determined look on your face, and voila, you’d flip onto your stomach — delighted with yourself and ready…

The Best of Times, The Worst of Times

Dear Ellie — Read or listen to the news today, and you will probably conclude you were born in the worst of times. Global warming! Terrorism! Fanaticism! Violence, rampant obesity, apathy, bad grammar, ignorance! We’re doomed! I hope I haven’t neglected any areas of concern,…

Turkeys and Temblors

Dear Ellie — Thirty-three years ago, Opa and I came across a quote we really loved. “Having a baby,” it read, “is like having a bowling alley installed in your brain.” Exactly! we both exclaimed, screeching with deranged laughter. A bowling alley! How very precise!…

Dear Ellie

You’ve now been in this world almost 48 hours. Forty-eight hours of photo flashes and prying, poking doctors and grinning, rhapsodic parents and rumbling traffic and leaking breasts and blaring sirens. Kind of a wild, teeming mess, isn’t it? Welcome! I’m your maternal grandmother, Ruth…